Class of 2010
by Pascara
Summary: College Life for V, S, N, B, non college life for D.
1. College!

Disclaimer, all characters belong to Cecily von Ziegesar.

Hey People!

College, we've been looking forward to it all summer, but none of us wants to admit it. Everyone knows the whole sexy bookworm thing is so out. The moment we've dreamt about for practically our whole lives is quickly approaching. The last four years we've all been planning our perfect entrance, and been shopping for the perfect outfit to wow everyone. Well most of us, if your like me, you don't need a perfect outfit to leave everyone with their mouths hanging open. So get ready to sink the most glamorous heels you have on the glossy lawn of the place you'll be spending the next four years of your life. You'll see me at the next frat party!

College is the time to reinvent yourself, but if you're like me you just want to maintain your image. At college no one will know who your father is, or what kind of luxurious apartment you lived in on the Upper East Side. Everyone will be living in practically the same dorms, and eating practically the same food. Ugh what happened to America not accepting Communism?

Sightings: S, B, and N trying to check into Yale without running into each other. Looks like summer at the Hamptons didn't go so well for anyone. D dropping of V at NYU, I saw him giving Columbia a once over. Doesn't he know that Columbia is Ivy League?


	2. Enter B's New Roomy

Enter B's New Roomy

Blair hadn't expected her Yale dorm room to even come close her bedroom at home in which her little sister was currently sleeping in. She just hadn't expected it to be so boring. I mean shouldn't it be covered in Ivy, and have a nook for her to comfortably shop online with her new Macbook? She was already disappointed that New Haven didn't have any good shopping.

"So Blair, this will look nice once you personalize it a little." Blair hadn't known her mom to be so clueless, but she might have overestimated her. She married Cyrus Rose after all.

"Yeah this is cool, it sure beats the Hamptons with Serena." Just thinking about the summer made her shudder. How could she think it was a good idea living in the same house as Serena the month before Yale?

"At least you'll meet someone right away, your roommate should be coming sometime." Blair had gotten herself ready to face the inevitable; all these years of having her own room were about to come to a sudden halt. Blair knew she could be pretty impossible around people she didn't know, but she was ready to pull the Serena card, sugary sweet to everyone who crossed her path. "Oh speak of the devil, I think that's her!"

Serena would say something like first impressions aren't everything, but Blair hoped that with this girl she could prove Serena wrong. When she stepped into the room the new roommate flipped her perfectly strait red hair off her shoulder, and set her Louis Vuitton luggage set on the bed that Blair wasn't sitting on. She flashed a gorgeously white smile at Blair and started to unpack her amazingly tiny designer clothes and put them in the set of drawers sitting next to her uncomfortable dorm bed.

"Hey, I'm Blair." Blair didn't think she'd ever introduced herself to anyone so quickly. She usually just waited for people to suck up to her.

"Cecilia." She looked at Blair for a second and then went back to unpacking.

"Well I guess I'll just let you girls bond. I'll see you at Thanksgiving Blair. Have fun!" Blair had already instructed Eleanor not to do anything embarrassing when bidding Blair farewell.

"Bye Mom."

As soon as Eleanor left Cecilia seemed to open up. "So, are you nervous?"

Usually Blair wouldn't say what she felt. She wanted to convey the feeling of total confidence. Something about how this girl's greenish blue eyes were fixed on her, and how she didn't need a tan to be beautiful hit an honest bone in Blair. "More than you know."

"So did you see that guy out front, the one with the jet-black hair? He looked totally your type."

For the first time Blair actually talked without analyzing everything that was being said. She was actually someone friendly. Why didn't she start this ages ago? It was much easier.


	3. NYU, That's What Dreams Are Made Of

After Dan had left to check out Columbia, much to her displeasure, Vanessa started to unpack. Vanessa had snagged a single. She just couldn't get Dan's hints about him crashing in her dorm room out of her head. Sure Dan had a rock star quality and was published in the New Yorker, but would he really fit in with the NYU crowd?

Would she fit in with the NYU crowd? Sure she had gotten early acceptance and everything, but the Ken Mogul criticism was still kind of bothering her. But it was only Ken Mogul, the same Ken Mogul that "discovered" Vanessa, and begged her to come shoot with him in Africa or Peru or somewhere. All the thinking about not fitting in prompted Vanessa to tour campus.

"Oh. My. God." Vanessa had never been one for the acronyms or emoticons or anything, but he took her breath away. There he was, tall, but not too tall, thin, but not scrawny. Blackish brown hair was falling casually into his green eyes that made Vanessa's heart skip a beat even ten feet away. To complete the perfection he was wearing a SugarDaddy T-shirt. Perfect, Vanessa thought, a conversation starter.

"Hey" Vanessa casually walked over to him, bravely uttering the salutation.

"Nice hair." He flashed her a toothy grin.

Suddenly Vanessa was self-conscious about her shaved head, No, she thought viciously, I'm not this girl. I can start a conversation with him no matter what he says about my appearance. If he's shallow enough to judge me already then he's not worth my time.

Ummm, can you say hypocrite?

"Sorry," he looked genuinely apologetic, "I just don't see many girls with shaved heads. It's awesome though, it brings more attention to your features. I'm Nick by the way."

"Vanessa. So you like SugarDaddy?"

"They're awesome, I used to go see them live a lot, before they went out of the country to tour."

"Me too! My sister is the bassist."

"Ruby Abrams. Then you must be Vanessa Abrams." Hearing him say her full name sent a chill through her spine. "So Vanessa Abrams, what are you at NYU for?"

"You sound like a geeky tour guide." He blushed, which surprised Vanessa, it seemed really out of character. "I'm an aspiring filmmaker."

"Oh aspiring you say? Set some goals for yourself I presume. Before you have a chance to ask I'm a photographer. Don't look at me that way, I know it's horribly pretentious to say photographer, but what can you do?

"I don't know, what can you do? You could show me some of your pictures."

"To the darkroom!" Nick galloped off, Vannesa was hesitant to gallop, but she finally gave in. College was going to be fun, she smiled at the thought of her and Nick alone in the darkroom talking about everything under the sun.

Maybe doing more than talking, if you catch my drift.


	4. Meet the Lax Team

Before Nate even had a chance to open his dorm room door he was attacked.

Not my baby!

They blindfolded him and led him down the stairs giggling all the way. Well manly giggling. A harsh voice whispered in his ear, "it's just a lax ritual, we're not mass murders or anything." Even with the harshness of the voice Nate calmed down a bit. It couldn't have hurt that he smoked quite a lot of weed before getting on the train to New Haven.

Even with the weed Nate decided the best, and really only thing, he could do was survey the situation. Okay, I'm being dragged, but at least I'm fairly sure these people aren't going to kill me. There seems to be about eight or nine, so if they came at me with a knife after they took off my blindfold I could probably fight off at least a couple of them.

"I heard you hit on Coach already." The voice was a little higher pitched than the first, and a lot more friendly.

"Did you really think she'd go for you with all of us at her service?"

"Well I don't know, I'm not in a position to make a educated answer right now, considering the fact that I'm blindfolded."

"That's true." It was the first voice again. "Okay we're here. You can take it off now."

As soon as the blindfold came off Nate was shocked. He was in the woods surrounded by tents. There was a fire in the middle, even though the sun was still up. All the boys around him darted toward their tent. They were all muscular and very lacrosse looking. It seemed he was the only freshman to make the team.

"You're staying with me." A particularly tough looking guy was standing next to Nate. He was the definition of rugged. Shoulder length dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, chiseled face, and a very prominent scar across his cheek. "I'm James, I'll be your tour guide this fine evening. We have a lot in store for you, so get ready."

James led Nate into the wood to sit by the campfire with the other guys. Nate could tell it was going to be an interesting night.


	5. S, A Sorority Girl?

Serena had been unlucky enough to have to share a dorm with two other people. She wasn't too worried about it though. After bidding her mother good-bye her phone started to ring. Whipping the pink RAZR out of her new Birkin bag, she saw it was her brother Erik.

"Hey, having fun at Yale without me." He was a bit resentful that Serena hadn't picked Brown to be with him. If she had no hearts would be safe from the Van der Woodsen duo.

"I don't know yet. I'm on my way to the dorms right now. Hopefully my roommates will be bearable."

"I'm sure they'll love you at least. Also, if they're hot be sure to introduce me when I come to visit. I like freshman girls, so innocent."

"I'm at the door now. You know you love me." After hanging up the phone, Serena pushed the door open.

As soon as the door opened she heard a very perky voice greet her. Kelly Clarkson was blaring so it was hard to hear exactly what she said. As Serena saw where the voice came from, she was shocked. This girl was so preppy Serena though she had died and gone to golf hell.

"Hey, I'm Marrisa," the girl repeated. Marissa was sporting perfect thick blonde curls and a pink cable knit sweater with a mink green pleated skirt, Serena could only imagine her closet being filled with Lacoste polos in every color of the rainbow.

"I'm Serena. So where's our other roommate?"

"She went out for a while. I can't believe a sophomore like myself got stuck with two freshmen. I guess it's okay, you're gorgeous." How many times could Serena hear that?

Serena tried to change the subject since she didn't know how to respond to an insult wrapped in a compliment. So what other kinds of music do you like?"

"Mostly Kelly Clarkson, lots of country too." Country? Serena had to keep from snorting. Then she decided that snorting wasn't a very Serena thing to do. "So I'm in Delta Sigma, rushing is starting soon, you like the perfect candidate."

"Maybe. So what's the other roommate like? What's her name?"

"I think her name was Heather, but Heather so doesn't fit her personality. Major band geek, that's her xylophone over there." Xylophone? Serena faintly remembered something about a Harvard boy. And here I thought that she loved him.

There was a knock on the door. The door opened and a girl with long brown hair stepped into the room. She was wearing a faded orange t-shirt with white cargo capris, on her feet were black old navy flip flops. Surprisingly she looked very put together in an I Really Don't Care What You Think About Me way. "I'm Heather."

"Hey Heather. I'm Serena."

Heather immediately went for her computer. She slipped on her thick blue-framed ironic hipster glasses and began to type. "Sorry I just got back from the practice room and I was totally inspired. I'm a writer by the way. Along with playing the xylophone, as you can see."

"I don't really have any intellectual talents. I did win a film festival last year, but I had a lot of help." Serena remembered the look on Blair's face when her name was announced, priceless.

"Cool."

"So Heather, are you interested in being a sorority girl?" Marissa was obviously feeling a little left out.

"I don't think that's really my scene."

"I should have known," Marissa said with a touch of coldness in her voice.


	6. I'm An Emo Kid, Noncomforming As Can Be

On the train back home Dan's hopes were slightly higher than they had been on the way up. Columbia's writing program was pretty excellent, and if Dan could get in next year both he and Vanessa would be college bound. Sneaking in each other's dorm room after hours, breaking into the schools aquatic centers to go for a swim. Dan decided he better get started on some new poetry if he wanted to impress Columbia.

_Riding the train of your heart, _

_Stopping to let others off,_

_Our destination is unknown _

Suddenly Dan felt eyes boring into the back of his head. A boy about his age approached him. He was extremely thin like Dan, but with dyed black hair and tight clothing. "Hey, weren't you that singer for the Raves?"

"Yeah I was."

"Man, what were you thinking? Raves is like totally mainstream." He now wore a look of disgust.

"Yeah well they came over to my house and found some poems, and asked if they could use them as songs. I take what I can get."

"You write poetry? Is that what the black notebook you were writing in earlier is for?" He now fixed his eyes on the notebook; an exact replica of all the others Dan had lying around his house.

"Yeah."

"I'm Raul. My friends and I write poetry too. It's pretty depressing though, a lot of people don't like it."

"Dan. Depressing, like about death?" Dan had once told someone that death was his favorite verb.

"Yeah, stuff like that. We're having a reading in about ten minutes, that's where I'm heading. You can come if you want."

"That sounds good." Dan hadn't told Rufus, his dad, exactly when he was coming home. He figured he could stop by the reading for an hour or so.

"Great." Raul and Dan sat in silence for about three minutes before Raul led Dan out of the train and down the unfamiliar New York street. "It's about another block, okay we're here."

Dan stepped into the run down club and was surprised by the dim lighting. He had never actually been to a poetry reading, except for one, but that was pretty high class. Already the club was filled with people. All wearing tight clothes and a lot of them had black hair. The ones who didn't have black hair had brightly colored locks, red mostly.

Dan snagged a seat in the back just as it was starting. Immediately a girl came onstage. She was wearing a red shirt that said 'Every Time I Die'. She started off tentatively but picked up steam as she went on.

_"I check my phone, no calls from you,_

_I check twice more today._

_Tomorrow I'm shaving, _

_The blade comes out,_

_It ends up in my arm_

_Blood, blood, blood_

_I'm swimming in a vat of blood_

_I try to call you_

_As they wheel me off_

_Look in my bathroom_

_There lies a sign of my undying love_

_Scratched amongst the discharge of my veins_

_'Insert emo love lyric here.'"_

"…And that was Razor Blade Valentine." Some kind of announcer stepped on to the stage. "Next is Raul Phillips."

"Okay I wrote this after my girlfriend accused me of being gay, so it might be a little… rough around the edges. "

_"I shave my legs_

_I steal your pants_

_I wish you would die._

_I confess my undying love to you_

_As the tears flow. _

_I wish you would die. _

_I draw pictures of you_

_And me. _

_Together. _

_I wish you would die_

_You always said you liked me the way I was_

_You said I should never change. _

_Should I change now?_

_I wish you would die_.

Wow, Dan thought. These poems are so full of emotion.

Oh no, I hope he's not thinking what I think he's thinking.


	7. College! continued

Hey People!

It's been a bust couple of days for all of us. Starting college, meeting new people, and _Meeting_ new people, if you catch my drift. To those not lucky enough to be able to walk the ivy covered hallways, I'm truly sorry. That must suck.

Sightings: B and a redhead scoping out cute ivy-league guys, V and an extremely handsome tall thin brunette galloping off into the sunset. That's right, they were actually galloping. H showing S the music room, maybe some xylophone playing will bring back some of S's memory. D in some off the wall club looking inspired. Does anyone know where a certain blonde lacrosse player has gone?

Mail:

Dear Gossip Girl,

I met this awesome girl yesterday with a shaved head, but I can't figure out if she has a boyfriend. She mentioned some guy dropped her off, but how do I find out if it's her dad, her friend, or her boyfriend?

-Head Over Heels In NY

Dear Head Over Heels,

Does anyone really know if a certain shaved head girl and scrawny floppy haired guy are together or not? My advice for now is continue to woo her as you please, and if she stops you, well just assume that she's taken.

-Gossip Girl

Dear Gossip Girl,

I bet you're hot. Can I have your number?

-jock boy

Dear jock boy,

Even if you weren't a no-necked jock, I still wouldn't give you my number. I like to keep up my mystique. And by the way, hot is an understatement.

-Gossip Girl


	8. The Darkroom Chronicles

Vanessa was galloping and she didn't even care who saw her. Every time she hopped her messenger bag she got from the army surplus store bounced with her. She was following Nick, also known as the coolest guy ever. Hello, aren't you forgetting about someone?

"This is it, the arts building. Tisch if you really need a name for it. Are you sure you can handle the darkroom."

"Positive." Vanessa didn't even try to flirt with this guy. He was above flirting; he was practically a god.

The first thing that Vanessa saw in the darkroom was a blown up picture of a name brand high heel dragging a condom across the pavement. It was so blatantly brilliant and, she was completely awestruck.

"That's my most recent work." Vanessa followed his index finger to the picture that she'd been admiring.

"Perfect," she breathed.

"Okay I'm just going to come out and ask you, because I'm blunt like that. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Does that mean you like me?" She didn't want to give him a strait answer; she was too cool for that.

"Does that mean you don't?" He bent down to kiss her. She didn't stop him.

I know she's forgetting about someone. Who could it be?


End file.
